When Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings trilogy came out in 2001 – 2003, we were beyond excited. We’d been young people who discovered the Tolkien stories. That others had done so before us was immaterial. We read them in high school or college, in the late 60s or early 70s, had Middle Earth posters on our walls. Tolkien’s books were emblems of our youth, which, by the dawn of the new century, lay as far behind us as The Shire.
But we weren’t the only ones excited about these film versions: the buzz was incredible, the ticket lines long. And in December 2001, we so needed that uplifting tale of good conquering evil. The Christmas season releases, one film at a time for three years, led to the establishment of a holiday tradition.
The Fellowship of the Ring, 2001. The Two Towers, 2002. The Return of the King, 2003. Because it was winter break, we managed to assemble ten or twelve friends each time, and have dinner afterwards. A few had moved away and were in town for the holidays. A few were teachers and so on break. For three winters in a row we gathered happily to see loyalty triumph over betrayal, courage over fear, and spend time together in a way we rarely did anymore. We were mostly at busy points in our careers, had grown children. One or two of the grown children joined us.
We had sweet memories of those occasions and in the years since watched the films again over the holidays several times. The Hobbit, 2012, more than a decade later. We decided this thing we’d done so joyfully must be resurrected. Two of the original fellowship were in town for the holidays and that was a good start. But the elder wizard of our group died in 2004, and one pair now lived in India. Another has COPD and the evening was longer than her portable oxygen tank could last. She and her husband could not come. The grown children are scattered, have their own families. We assembled six, saw the film and had dinner, but it was not the same.
For one thing, we weren’t riding the same wave of thrilled reaction to the film. LOTR won 17 Academy Awards, was widely praised for innovative special effects. It was partly that which dazzled us in 2001. Now we’ve all seen lots of slick CGI and while The Hobbit’s effects were excellent, they’d lost the power to amaze us. LOTR was one film per book. The Hobbit is to be three films for one book. More than once, I felt conscious of overly extended scenes. One of our group said at dinner, “too many Orcs.” The restaurant was loud and our hearing not as good as it was a decade ago. I strained to keep up with conversations and was weary when it was over, my ears resounding as if they’d been boxed.
Nostalgia is a deceptive seductress. We remember the delights of times past without recalling their dark sides: the horror of 9-11; between one film and the next, learning of our friend’s cancer; other friends moving away. Those pleasant moments were real. They were good. But there’s no repeating them. To every season, its own sorrows, its own joys.
You so capture what we mean when we say life is a journey. All the experiences along the way are who we are at this juncture. It is good to rest a while and remember, but we can never walk that path again. Yet, the road ahead is bright and inviting and the only one who can walk it is that person who read the books, saw the movies, hugged the friends. That is precisely why each of us is totally unique because no two people can possible have lived the exact same stories (or even experiences the shared ones the same!) Amazing how well Robert Frost knew all this and tried to warn us! Thanks for the reminding in this cold, sunny beginning of another new year, Pat!!
I am watching the film today, with tea and chocolates. I will tell you about it.
Ah, Pat…your piece tugs at my heart this lovely January day. So much is past, and though we don’t get around as easily as we used to, friendship abides.
Pat, you have a way of putting into word pictures moments we have all shared.
Well, all my friends were reading LOTR in the Sixties, but I just couldn’t get into it, so I can’t relate that closely to your experience (although I did like the films…though I’m not planning on watching the stretched-out Hobbit series).
But memory and self is certainly interesting territory, given our mind’s propensity to engage in constant narrative to prop up our sense of self – especially in sociological contexts. (Spirituality usually involves paying attention to this inner chatter in order to perceive reality more directly.) The role of memory is involved in this, of course. We think we can change the future (uh-huh) but we tend to think of the past as immutable (those of you with siblings whose memories of key events differ from yours call this assumption into question).
I gotta stop it with the parentheses. Really annoying to read.
Anyway, here is the latest of many Oliver Sacks-like articles about memory and self I ran into a couple of days ago on Arts and Letters Daily: http://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2012/12/amnesia-and-the-self-that-remains-when-memory-is-lost/266662/
Copy, paste and skim.
We are all hobbits at heart. Best Blog yet! Perhaps it is because I love the LOTR
books and movies always make me cry. Come to think of it, I married a hobbit
who loves to have a second breakfast daily and truly believes in peace.
Well, I saw it in 3D at the Cineplex in California. Ho hum. And isn’t that a terrible thing to say? Where is my gratitude for this amazing story & even more amazing special effects? But yeah… too many Orcs. I have described it to friends as a cake with way too much frosting. Interestingly, however, one of the reasons there may be such a ho hum reaction by so many people is the lighting. In the 3D version I watched, the indoor scenes struck me as BBC soap opera circa 1970s. And now, Kevin Kelly explains why. I think you might enjoy his blog post:
http://www.kk.org/thetechnium/archives/2013/01/pain_of_the_new.php
So maybe we will all see this movie with different eyes in the future. Who knows?
Pat, I sent you warmest good wishes for a very happy, healthy, prosperous and inspired 2013.